The Quickie
by allthingsdecent
Summary: The sequel to The Real World. Posted separately, because I think The Real World stands on its own. But the people demanded a part 2 and who am I to deny the will of the people?


**The Quickie**

**Thoughts. I have thoughts. **

**First of all, I decided to make this a whole separate story from The Real World, even though technically it's chapter 2. Here's why: **

**1. Calling this The Real World 2 would make me think of MTV a little **_**too**_** much.**

**2. We all know that Help Me is the perfect episode and, frankly, I hate to mess with it. The way I wrote The Real World was meant to be just open-ended enough that Help Me could still take place. Now that I've added this, I've blown canon to hell. So if you want to live in a world where Help Me is the only truth, read no further. If you want a fluffy little adorkable AU, here it is.**

**Also, for a story about sex, there's very little actual sex in this fic. Sorry about that. Hopefully you'll find it sexy anyway. (That was the idea.) -atd**

Lucas climbed into bed next to Cuddy, who was reading _The Help._

"Hiya gorgeous," he said.

"Hi," she said, flipping the page, not looking up from her book.

"I've been thinking about you all day," he said, taking the book out of her hand, starting to kiss her.

"Hey! I was in the middle of a sentence," she said, testily.

"The maids triumph," he said, putting the book on the nightstand, continuing to kiss her.

She kissed back, half-heartedly, but then bolted up straight.

"I think I hear Rachel," she said.

"You're imagining things," Lucas said, kissing her neck.

"No, I'm pretty sure I heard her crying," Cuddy said. "I need to go check on her."

She started to get out of bed, but Lucas grabbed her arm.

"Stay in bed," he said wearily. "I'll go."

He got out of bed, padded down the hallway, peered into Rachel's room. She was sleeping soundly, her thumb in her mouth, clutching Thumpy, her favorite stuffed rabbit.

He shook his head, smiled.

"Just as I suspected, she's sound asleep and spooning Thumpy," he said, as he got back into bed. He grinned. "Now speaking of spooning. . ."

But Cuddy didn't stir.

"Lisa?" he said, quietly. He gave her the tiniest shove on the back. She was motionless, save for the rise and fall of her breath.

He contemplated her sleeping form.

"Shit," he said.

#####

The next night, Cuddy emerged from the master bath.

"Are you cold?" Lucas asked, scratching his head.

"No," Cuddy said. "Why?"

"I'm just not used to seeing you in flannel pajamas," he said.

"Oh these?" she said, getting into bed. "L.L. Bean. They're super comfy. You should think about getting a pair."

She gave him a breezy, chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Goodnight, sweetie."

And she turned her back on him and went to sleep.

####

The third time was the charm, Lucas hoped. He turned the light out on the nightstand, went to kiss her.

"I miss you," he said.

She gently pushed him off her, groaned.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry. I can't. I have a headache," she said.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I think the giant bottle of Advil on my nightstand would indicate that I'm dead serious."

Lucas sat up, folded his arms, sulking.

"Don't look so miserable," she teased. "It's just one night."  
"Actually, it's three nights. In a row. Not that I'm counting," he said.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Is it my fault that I have a headache?"

"It's just a funny coincidence," Lucas said.

"What is?"

"You spend two hours trapped with House on the hospital roof and suddenly you won't touch me."

Now it was Cuddy's turn to sit up in bed. She switched on the light.

"How do you know about that?" she said.

"Gary told me," Lucas said.

Shit. She had forgotten. They were friends.

"That meant nothing," Cuddy said.

"Actually, if had meant nothing, you would have told me about it. The fact that you _didn't_ tell me means it meant something."

"Don't be ridiculous. It just slipped my mind. You know that House and I are just friends. . .And barely that any more."

"Maybe. But it bugs me that you work so closely with him."

"There's nothing I can do about that," Cuddy said, eyeing him.

"How would you like it if I worked with a woman who was pining away for me?"

Cuddy thought about that for a second. It occurred to her that she wouldn't be bothered at all.

"House isn't pining away for me," she said instead.

"Lisa, he's madly in love with you."

"You can't possibly know that."

"Actually I can," Lucas said.

"How?" Cuddy said. "You can read his mind?"

"I don't need to. He told me himself."

"_What?_"

"Thanksgiving night. He came over to my place—actually he broke into my place. He was extremely drunk, off _my wine_, by the way."

"Lucas, why didn't you tell me this?"

"Just honoring the guy code," Lucas lied. In fact, he simply didn't want Lisa knowing how deep House's feelings for her ran—especially since in his heart of hearts he knew she felt the same way.

But it was too late to turn back now.

"His exact quote was, 'I'm pathetic. I don't deserve her'—no arguments here. And then he said, 'I love her.'"

Cuddy's mouth dropped open. Just for a moment, on the roof, she thought House was about to tell her he loved her. But she convinced herself she was imagining things. And of course, with House there was always an agenda. Nothing could ever be taken at face value.

"He was just messing with you," she said, unconvincingly. "We were all playing games around that time. Remember? It was a giant game of chicken."

"Maybe," Lucas shrugged. "But drunk people tend to speak the truth."

"Whether or not House is in love with me is irrelevant," she said, giving Lucas a reassuring kiss on the lips. "Because I'm not in love with him."

Lucas glanced at her.

"I wonder if you'd still say that with a few glasses of wine in you," he said.

######

At lunch the next day, Cuddy sat across from Wilson at the Westside Diner.

"Why did you want to eat here and not the cafeteria?" Wilson said.

Cuddy shrugged.

"Just a change of pace. And besides, I like their egg salad."

"Also, no chance of running into House here."

She looked up.

"What does House have to do with anything?"

"I know about the two of you—on the roof."  
Cuddy, who had just taken a sip of her iced tea, almost did a spit-take.

"What did he tell you?"

"Not much," Wilson said, dousing his chili with salt. "Just that you two cleared the air a bit."  
She squinted at him.

"And that's all he said?"

Wilson narrowed his eyes.

"What else is there?"

"Nothing," Cuddy said. "Forget it."

Wilson took a spoonful of chili and contemplated her.

"How are things going with Lucas?" he said, knowingly.

"They're going fine," she said. "It's just that he's. . ."

"Not House?" Wilson suggested.

"I was going to say: Been working a lot of late nights lately," she said.

Wilson nodded, in that patronizing way of his.

"I see," he said.

"What do you _think_ you see?" she said.

"Nothing. If you're happy with Lucas, you're happy with Lucas."

Cuddy frowned at him.

"Do you really think he's changed?" she said finally.

"No, I think he's the same back-stabbing weasily gumshoe he's always been."

"I meant House," Cuddy said, trying not to laugh.

"Ahhh."

Wilson picked up a pickle spear, pointed it at her.

"I think he has changed. And I know he's trying really hard to be a better man. It's kind of a beautiful thing to witness."

Cuddy absorbed what he said.

"And his feelings for me?"

"Those haven't changed."

She felt her neck grow red.

"What I mean is, do you really think he's ready to be in a relationship? Do you think he's ready to commit?"

"As ready as he'll ever be."  
######

Why did they have to make those close-door buttons on elevators so confusing?, Cuddy thought. It was like an IQ test.  
She had finally managed to press the right button—which she was now doing with some urgency—when a cane jammed through the small opening and House stepped in.

"You've been avoiding me," he said.

"No I haven't," she lied.

"You haven't been to the cafeteria in three days. You sent a _courier_ to my office to pick up a patient file, and you were just pressing the close door button like your life depended on it," he said.

"Okay, maybe I've been avoiding you a little," she admitted.

"Because of what happened on the roof," he said.

"I'm still processing," she said.

"Me too," he said. The elevator door opened and he followed her out and into her office. Without asking, he closed the door behind them. "Let's process together."

She remembered the last time they had kissed—how he immediately began to deflect, avoid her. Now here he was, the one who wanted to talk.

Things really _had_ changed.

"I don't know what to say, House," she said.

"Say that you'll end this ridiculous charade with Lucas and be with me."

"You make it sound so simple," she said.

"That's because it is simple."

"Lucas would be devastated. Besides, he's practically moved in—and Rachel is very fond of him. . ."

He stepped toward her desk.

"I just heard a lot of Lucas and Rachel in those sentences. But what about you? What do _you_ want?" he said.

She looked at him. The contrast between his grizzled mien and those pretty blue eyes with those long girly lashes had always killed her.

She put her head in her hands.

"You know what I want," she said. Her voice was slightly muffled.

"Then dump Lucas and be mine," he said coaxingly.

She looked up at him.

"I. . .I. . ." She picked up her phone. "I have a conference call I need to make."

#####

The next day, Cuddy stood outside the DDx room, lurking in the hall.

House looked up. She gestured for him to step outside.

"BRB," he said to his team. "But remember: No diagnosing without an adult chaperone."

He approached her.

"What's up?" he said, cautiously.

"I did it," she whispered.

"Did what?"

"I broke up with Lucas."

His mouth dropped open.

"You _did?_ To be with me?"

"No, to be with Taub," she said, smiling slightly. "Yes to be with you, dummy. . . I'm sorry I'm telling you like this in the hallway, but I just couldn't wait to get you alone."  
"Cuddy, I'm so . . . happy."

He wanted to pick her up, swing her around, and give her a deep kiss, but his entire team was watching them curiously from the office.

"But there is one catch," Cuddy said.

"Hit me," House said. His heart was doing flip flops in his chest, but he was trying to keep his cool.

"We can't be official for two months."

"Two months?" he said, dismayed. "Why?"

"Because Lucas insisted the reason I broke up with him was you and I told him it wasn't."

"Who cares?" House said.

"I care. First of all, I don't want to hurt him like that. And second, I don't want the whole hospital thinking I cheated on him with you. Two months gives us a bit of a cushion."

House folded his arms.

"I . . . don't know if I can wait that long," he said.

"House, we waited 20 years. You can wait two more months."

He sighed.

"I suppose."

She got a rather officious look on her face.

"So we need a plan," she said, as though she was running a particularly complicated budget meeting. "He's probably going to have me followed. So my place is out of the question. Yours too. There's cars, but that's kind of risky—and not really that comfortable either."

A large grin formed on House's face.

"Are you. . . trying to figure out where we can sneak off to _have sex?"_ he whispered happily.

She looked at him, a tiny, flirty smile playing at her lips.

"I said two months before we could be official. I didn't say we had to torture ourselves."

"Right," he said. Almost subconsciously, he moved closer to her. Their legs were touching.

Thirteen frowned at them from the DDx table.

"My office is an option," Cuddy said.

"And a personal fantasy!" he said.

"But Lucas might have it bugged."

"What is he, the Stasi?"

"He's a private eye. And a good one. . . Your office is better. But there's the privacy factor."

"Cameron and Chase got some good use out of the janitorial supply closet," House offered.

"How gauche," Cuddy said. Then she got a tiny gleam in her eye. "I've got it! The employee lounge. 7 pm. Bonus because there's a couch."

"And a foosball table!"

"Don't get any bright ideas," she said.

House smirked.

"One potential snag," he said. "The employee lounge tends to be filled . . . with employees."

"Not when it's being routinely sprayed for bugs."

"You're an evil genius."

"Thank you."

"Is it 7 o clock yet?"

They beamed at each other.

Then House walked back into the DDx room.

"What was that all about?" Thirteen said.

"Inventory reports," House said.

"You seemed pretty happy for a guy who was just discussing inventory reports," Foreman said, skeptically.

House looked into the hallway, where he and Cuddy had just been standing.

"I really love inventory," he said.

####

When House got to the employee lounge at 7 pm, there was a sign on the door that read: "Do Not Enter: Fumigation in Progress."

House hesitated, then stepped in.

"That almost fooled me," he said.

"I stole it from maintenance," she said proudly.

She was sitting on the couch, with her legs folded under her. She had already pushed the couch up against a far wall, so nobody passing by could possibly see them.

She was still dressed in her work outfit—a gray, pin-striped business suit—but she had taken off the jacket and kicked off her pumps so she was just wearing the camisole and hip-hugging skirt.

House was practically salivating.

She tossed House a ring of keys.

"Lock the door," she said.

He limped quickly to the door.

He fumbled a bit, mostly because he was so eager, but he finally locked it.

He approached her.

"So now what do we. . ."

She pulled her camisole over her head. She was wearing a black, strapless pushup bra underneath, which she immediately took off.

"Ohmygod," House said.

"Come here," she said.

And he dove for her.

Afterwards, Cuddy lay on top of House. He had his arms draped over her and he was idly caressing her elbow and breathing in her hair.

"Mmmm," Cuddy said. She was reliving their lovemaking in her mind—his tongue exploring her mouth; his teeth grazing her lip, then her earlobe, then her nipples; the feel of his lean, sweaty body against hers; the way he felt inside her—how instinctively he knew when to increase pressure and when to release it; how loudly he'd made her come.

"So _that's _what it's supposed to feel like," Cuddy said, a bit giddily. "I had forgotten."

"Lucas not a real pistol in the sack, huh?" he said, stretching a bit and grinning.

"Suffice it to say, he's a little too quick on the trigger."

"Ouch," House said, nibbling on her ear.

"But you didn't hear it from me," Cuddy chuckled.

She turned around and faced him.

She stroked his face. Gently kissed his mouth. Even in a locked room in the middle of a busy hospital, there was something so comfortable about lying here with him. It was like they had been longtime lovers in a previous life.

"So when do we get to do this again?" she breathed.

"How bout now?" he said.

#####

Her holdout over the supply closet lasted all of two days. They also did it in the third floor nurse's lounge, on (and under) the conference room table, and in three different exam rooms.

A week into their new secret relationship, Cuddy came storming into House's office in the middle of a differential.

"My office! Now!" she shouted.

The ducklings all shrank in fear.

"If House gets fired, I want his office," Chase cracked, as he watched them walk away.

House followed her back to her office.

"I had no idea the watermelon was going to explode like that," he started to explain. "I was just trying to prove a. . ."

But she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into her private bathroom.

"I've checked every inch of this bathroom," she said. "It isn't bugged." And she began unbuckling his belt.

#####

"I need to make love to you in a bed," House whined.

He and Cuddy were sitting in the hospital cafeteria, having lunch together.

"I know," Cuddy said, rubbing her neck. "I have cramps in muscles I didn't know existed."

"It's not that," House said. "It's just that I can please you so much more in a bedroom."

"I highly doubt that," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Give me a proper bed and I'll prove it," House said.

"Does this look like tapioca to you?"

They both looked up. Wilson was standing there, holding a tray. He slid into the booth next them. "They said it was tapioca, but I'm pretty sure it's vanilla."

"Hi Wilson," House and Cuddy said in unison.

"Hey," Wilson said.

Suddenly, House and Cuddy exchanged a look.

Cuddy nodded.

"Wilson," House said. "Can Cuddy and I borrow your apartment tonight?"

"Borrow my apartment?"

"It's for . . . a project."

"A project?" He was mystified.

"Yeah…it's, um, hospital related."

"Why can't you use your own apartment? Or Cuddy's?"

"They're not, uh, useful for this particular project," Cuddy said, as House nodded sagely.

"I'll be home tonight, doing laundry, as you know," Wilson said cautiously. "So I suppose Cuddy could come over. Knock yourselves out."

"Actually, we sort of need your apartment _without_ you in it," House said.

"You what?"

"Just for an hour," House said.

"Or two," Cuddy said, with a smirk.

Finally, Wilson got it.

"You're sleeping together!" he sputtered.

"Lower your voice, man!" House said.

Wilson laughed, shook his head.

"Why can't you use your own beds? Or a motel room like other normal people having an illicit affair?"

"First of all, we're not having an affair," House said. "Cuddy broke up with Lucas last week. Second of all, you make it sound like some of tawdry, sleazy thing. Cuddy is my girlfriend now. We're together."

Wilson looked at Cuddy, who nodded.

"Well, congratulations. And about damn time. But why all the sneaking around?"

"Lucas took the breakup hard," Cuddy explained. "I wouldn't want him getting the. . ."

"Right impression," House finished.

"But how would he even know?"

"We think he might be following us," Cuddy said.

"And bugging her office," House said.

"What is he, Jason Bourne?" Wilson said.

House smiled at Wilson's variation on his same joke.

"He's good at his job," Cuddy said.

Wilson looked at House, then Cuddy.

"Okay. . .I'll go to Sullivan's for a burger tonight and leave you two alone. But consider this your engagement present, if it comes to that. And your wedding present, too."

"I love you," House said.

"Me too," Cuddy said.

"Be at my place at 8."  
######

At 10:15 that night—just to be on the safe side—Wilson gingerly knocked on his own door.

Cuddy answered it, dressed in an oversized t-shirt (one of House's, of course) and _no pants_? He looked again. She was wearing a pair of House's boxers. But she looked incredibly sexy. Sex-sated and girlishly happy. About 10 years younger than she looked in the office. Her hair was wet.

"You run a great inn, sir," she said to him.

House emerged from the bedroom, rubbing his hair with a towel, wearing unsnapped jeans and an open shirt.

"My man!" he said to Wilson. He, too, seemed disgustingly happy.

"I hope you don't mind that we used the shower," House said.

"And the couch," Cuddy giggled. "And the rug."

"And the kitchen table," House said.

"The _kitchen table_?"

"We got hungry," House shrugged.

_I really need a girlfriend_, Wilson thought.

######

The next day, at around 3 o clock, Cuddy stood in House's office, holding something behind her back.

"Whatchya got there?" House said.

"A cupcake," she said, revealing the paper plate. The cupcake was yellow with pink frosting. "More accurately, it's a Sorry I'm Making You Wait So Long To Be Official and Thanks For the Greatest Sex of My Life cupcake."

"You got all that on a cupcake, huh?" he said, taking the plate. Then he grinned at her. "Last night was. . ."

"Amazing," they said in unison.

"I want to kiss you so bad right now," House said. He glanced at the DDx room, which was empty. Still, a kiss was too dangerous.

"Our favorite supply closet?" he suggested.

"We can't have sex in the supply closet in the middle of the day," she scoffed.

"I said kiss, not sex. I just want my mouth on yours."

Cuddy looked into the hall, which was relatively empty.

"Okay," she said.

The kiss of course, immediately got hot. In moments, House had Cuddy up against the wall and she had her legs wrapped around him and his hands were all over her.

"Fuck it," she said, reaching for him and unsnapping his jeans. "But let's make it quick."

"Having fun?"

They turned, shocked, to see a figure standing in the supply closet door.

"Lucas!" Cuddy said.

"So you _were_ following us, you little creepy perv," House said.

"I didn't need to," Lucas replied. "I asked Cuddy's assistant where she was and when I came up here and saw that House's office was empty, I asked myself: If I was going to have a mid-day quickie, where would I go?"

House laughed, loudly.

"What's so funny?" Lucas snarled.

"Nothing. It's just that, from what I've heard, sex with you is always a quickie."

Lucas charged toward him, but Cuddy managed to wedge herself between them before they came to blows. She had one hand on House's chest and one hand on Lucas's.

"House," she said scoldingly. "Button your pants, wipe that smirk off your face and give me and Lucas some time to talk—alone."

House looked at her, then scowled at Lucas.

"Fine," he said.

He reluctantly went back to his desk.

Half an hour later, he saw Lucas storming down the hallway like a bat out of hell.

Then, Cuddy came into his office. She seemed a bit shell-shocked.

"I have good news and bad news," she said, sitting down.

"Hit me with the bad news first," House said.

"Lucas is never going to speak to me again," Cuddy said.

"I said give me the _bad _news," House cracked. Then he smiled, "So what's the good news?"

"We're in the clear," Cuddy said. "We can be official."

"As in going on actual dates, and having sleepovers, and telling everyone?"

"Yes to the dates, thank God. No, to the sleepovers—not immediately at least. I don't want to blow Rachel's mind just yet. And yes to telling everyone—as soon as I've scheduled us an appointment with Human Resources."

"I love you," House said.

He said it not like it was the first time he had ever uttered the phrase (which it was) but like it was a known fact, an empirical truth, something he had said a thousand times—and would say it a thousand times again.

"I love you, too," she said.

THE END


End file.
